


My Bastard Asshole Best Friend

by ashurbadaktu



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:36:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashurbadaktu/pseuds/ashurbadaktu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has always loved Scott.  Like.  More than friends.  A lot.  Not that he's said anything because OMG what if he doesn't love me back like that?  It's only after Scott turns into werewolf that Stiles realizes that love turns straight to lust when his eyes go from brown to gold.  Which is, you know, a PROBLEM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Bastard Asshole Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Cleaned up and claimed from the [Pack McCall Meme](http://packmccallmeme.dreamwidth.org/).

If you asked Stiles what he would bring with him to a desert island, the answer would be simple.

A way off.

But if you asked him more precisely, if the question really was 'what one thing could you not live without?' the answer would be a name.

Scott McCall.

Continuing with the hypotheticals, if you asked him why, he'd tell you because Scott is his best friend, his brother from another mother, the guy he knows he can count on no matter WHAT to have his back. This would be, in part, a lie. Or rather, it would be just a portion of the truth. 

The truth, of course, being that Stiles is madly in love with him.

Madly. Truly. Deeply. Occasionally a little creepily; he can admit that one in the privacy of his own mind, the only place where he admits any of the rest of it either. Of course, this is entirely Scott's fault. Of course.

For starters, Scott is just... just a CHILL motherfucker. Stiles is all over the place all the time, jumping from topic to topic, interest to interest, and Scott just rolls with it like it's totally normal to suddenly try and make your own soap from household materials so you know how to do it when the zombie apocalypse occurs, even if he gets a lye burn on his arm because Stiles is a clumsy bastard when he's excited and thank God Scott knew what to do cause the guilt would have eaten him ALIVE otherwise. Another point in his favor: dude knows first aid, a definite plus for being around Stiles Stilinski.

And he's smart too. Book smart, yeah, he can do that, but Stiles doesn't really give a flying fuck cause HE'S book smart, past book smart, and most of the time it's a fucking pain and he's all over the place like with the soap and what he loves, what he NEEDS, is how Scott is, always smart enough to understand but grounded enough to keep him sane. And Scott just... gets people, Stiles especially but other people too, gets them in a minute and understands them and Stiles doesn't know how he does it, just picks up what's going on and slides in with a smile and makes their day just a little bit better or hell, gets them out of the way to make HIS day just a bit better because Scott's not always sunshine and rainbows. That's just like, most of the time and Stiles is proud to say that most of the time, Scott's HIS sunshine and rainbows and he likes it that way, thank you very much.

And then his bastard of a best friend has the damn nerve to be hot as hell too. That stupid face with its stupid perfect uneven jaw and that stupid smile and stupid adorable eyebrows and stupid full lips and those stupid eyes with their stupid happy crinkles that make his whole fucking WORLD up sometimes, hair he wans to grip between his fingers like ALL the time, and then to top it all off, an ass you could bounce quarters off of all with this skin that should be illegal for being this perfect shade of brown AND softer than any dude has a right to be. 

It's like... insane. And not fair. And he'd kill people, multiple people, before giving up any of it.

But he can deal with that. He can. He's like, learned ways of handling it and not tackling his best friend into the lockers every day. He has his own little coping mechanisms that he's devised, and they work, and he is a fricking MASTER at making sure that Scott has no idea of this amazing colossal crush he'd had since forever because if he asked or said or jumped him during a sleepover or something and Scott didn't feel exactly the same way he did (and Stiles honestly can't tell you why he would), he would curl up into a ball and never ever uncurl because The World Would Be Over. Focusing his hopes on Lydia Martin is a much safer alternative and he clings to that alternative like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood because the alternative to the alternative is Not An Option.

So what happens? What, OF COURSE, happens?

Scott gets bitten by a werewolf. More importantly, Scott BECOMES a werewolf and that comes with a lot of complications, not the least of which being that occasionally this other part of his best friend gets the driver's seat and tries to kill him but really, that's kind of what you expect when your best friend becomes a werewolf. You just gotta roll with those punches. The psycho killers and the cranky asshole werewolf packmates and the hunters and the rest of it... you just gotta roll with it and Stiles has. He really think he's rolled with it pretty well.

The problem is the eyes.

Seriously.

When Scott gets pissed or upset or whatever, his eyes glow this amazing gold and Stiles has absolutely no defense. There were no years of preparation for that, no Jedi mind tricks he can do on himself... That look, that gold-eyed bestial hungry fucking WILD look on his best friend goes straight between his legs and he would swear in front of a judge, jury, and God Himself that he's never been harder in his LIFE.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Which is why Scott cannot pull any of the wolf crap now. No, cannot, must not. It's just them and no one's trying to kill them and Allison is out of the picture for the moment and it's just him and Scott, a guy and his best friend, and they're out and they're practicing lacrosse stuff and Scott's right there with no one else around and he is Out of Fucking Excuses because he's just had a series of weeks where he could die at any minute especially that time he was kidnapped by Crazy Grandpa Argent so the The World Being Over is looking pretty lame against the idea of never ever ever kissing those stupid perfect lips in his whole, possibly short, life and his defenses are at an all time LOW. Scott CANNOT pull any--

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck he wants to--

FUCK.

Play it off, play it off, PLAY IT OFF --

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK he's getting tackled and he's suddenly wishing that Scott WAS stupid or didn't have any nerve endings below the waist or something because--

Because oh my God.

Because oh my God, cancel all previous wishes forever, cancel everything because his schedule needs to be clear for the next eight years because Scott is kissing him and if it ends he might just CRY because it is like, a million times better than his imagination could ever formulate (which is saying something). Scott's hands, mmm, nice big hands are cradling him even though the big idiot had already turned them so HE was the one landing on the ground because Scott's just like that, sweet like that, thinking of everyone but himself like that except right now he's obviously thinking of Stiles because he's KISSING Stiles and he tastes good and people shouldn't taste GOOD except Scott does, just like he FEELS good and smells good and he's touched Scott's hair before but getting his hands in it is amazing and he'd focus on just that if SCOTT WASN'T FUCKING KISSING HIM.

He's never hated his brain (or his need to breathe) more than when he pulls back and stares at his best friend and its a good thing the question is in his eyes because for once, his mouth isn't just not working, it is REFUSING to work, because it just stopped doing the best thing ever and words are no where near as good as kissing. His mouth is literally STRIKING for better working conditions, namely the ones that happen against Scott's lips.

"Cause I love you, dumbass."

Fucking Scott. Fucking asshole best friend friend with his perfect everything, including glowing golden eyes with stupid fucking crinkles at the corners.

"This is cool, right?"

Stiles gives up and gives in to worker demands. God Bless the Proletariat.


End file.
